


Nebula Bright

by Ericine



Series: Ubi Stellae et Amor [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Beginnings, F/F, Femslash, Friendship/Love, Post-Divorce, Resolved Sexual Tension, Reunions, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 21:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14505552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ericine/pseuds/Ericine
Summary: "She’s never heard this kind of I love you before."Post-divorces, Philippa and Afsaneh get to know each other again.





	Nebula Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [R_S_B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/gifts), [Oparu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/gifts).



> Written mostly because _Closer to Fine_ was supposed to end in sex, but that didn't really happen.
> 
> R_S_B named Afsaneh! And thanks to everyone who talked me through me writing this in the middle of my test.

Pippa’s room looks nearly the same as Afsaneh remembers it. She’s added a little to the decorations on the walls, but it still has that neat, not-completely-kept look about it, though the floors and most of the surfaces are spotless. Afsaneh’s always liked it. It looks lived in and comfortable. Inviting, like anyone could drop by and hang out. And knowing Pippa on this ship, her quarters are probably just the place for that - not The Place, like Gabe’s would be. But it’s a place where people can feel safe and at home.

Afsaneh will swear they lost time in the crawlspace. Kissing Pippa again after all this time was nothing new and everything new. It was like she wanted to map the moment - every touch, every curve, the landscape of Pippa’s mouth.

_ Home _ is a complicated concept for many people in Starfleet, and Afsaneh counts herself among that number. Something inside her turns when she sees Earth. Something else inside her turns when she transports into Tehran, and she feels beautifully settled when she’s in her station. She feels complete when she holds her children, but she feels so much better when she’s holding them surrounded by space.

She hears the door slide shut behind them and feels Pippa wrap herself around her from the back, and something inside her shudders. Here, also, she is home. She leans her head back into the crook of Pippa’s shoulder and melts into her touch. “How long do you have?”

“I’m leading the evening shift, so maybe two hours?” She presses her lips to the side of Afsaneh’s neck, and Afsaneh shivers, despite the fact that they just spent about half an hour making out in a space hardly big enough for two grown adults.

Afsaneh takes Pippa’s hand, brings it to her mouth, and kisses it. Her body throbs; she could make this work in half an hour; two hours is a luxury. They haven’t had two hours to be alone together like this in nearly a decade. “We’ll make it work.”

She turns around, and it’s a lot easier than she thinks: her mouth on Pippa’s, both of them reaching for the zippers on their uniforms. Pippa likes to unwrap her lovers, and Afsaneh would be lying if she didn’t think about it all those years apart, Pippa sliding her jacket from her shoulders, reverent, taking the time to run her hands over Afsaneh’s bare arms.

That’s exactly what’s happening now, except her own hands are full of Pippa’s hair and wiry muscle. She touches Pippa’s cheek, and is rewarded with a lean and a sigh of such relief, even as Pippa’s reaching under her shirt and sliding warm hands over Afsaneh’s back.

Pippa’s faster than she is, and Afsaneh finds herself blindly following her cues, breaking apart from her kiss to raise her arms and shift - and then she’s shirtless and walking backward toward the bedroom.

Somewhere in there, Pippa’s taken down Afsaneh’s hair, which is falling over her shoulders in uneven waves. Pippa catches the look of bewilderment on her face, maybe, and her directed look in her eyes immediately softens. Pippa smiles, tender, pushes Afsaneh gently against the doorway of the bedroom, tucks her hair away from her face. “Is it too fast? You can tell me. I’m eager, but I don’t want it to go by too quickly. I think I have been waiting too long.”

Afsaneh has to kiss her, right now. She pulls her close, her hands in Pippa’s hair, the fabric of Pippa’s undershirt against Afsaneh’s breasts, sensitive, like the rest of her. “No, I just can’t believe this is real. You’re real.”

Pippa smiles, and maybe she undid her own hair and it’s just falling down now, because the waves come cascading down her face. She takes Afsaneh’s hands and presses them to where her neck meets her shoulders, down the delicate bones to her breasts. Afsaneh strokes them through the fabric. It’s magical. This whole moment is magical, and Pippa hasn’t moved her gaze away from Afsaneh, and Afsaneh’s breath catches in her throat. It’s quiet and strong and gentle and caring and exactly Pippa’s brand of  _ fucking sexy _ .

“I’m real,” murmurs Afsaneh, and maybe it’s more for herself, because Pippa’s got all of her tiny frame pressed up against her, and it’s getting hard to think.

Pippa leans in again and doesn’t pull away when the kiss is finished. “You’re real. I’m real,” she affirms. And then she lets go of Afsaneh’s hands and brings her own hands to Afsaneh’s bare breasts, and Afsaneh’s whimpering, because if she wasn’t already so fucking turned on before, she feels nearly lightheaded now, Pippa’s fingers dance feather-light over her, her thumbs stroking swollen nipples that only strengthen the throbbing between her legs.

Afsaneh leans back into the door frame, clinging to the other woman as she arches her neck, her back. “Pippa,  _ fuck _ .”

“Mm?” Pippa asks. She kisses down Afsaneh’s throat, into the space between her breasts. She replaces one thumb with her mouth and tongue, and her other hand is trailing over Afsaneh’s back, down to her waistband (too quick) and back up. “Mm-mm, no. You deserve to be savored. You’re worth the wait.”

Afsaneh laughs, her head up to the ceiling. Pippa replaces her mouth with her hand and moves on to the other breast. “Ten years isn’t enough of a wait for you, is it?”

Pippa laughs softly, letting her tongue drag up Afsaneh’s breastbone. “You’ve thought of other things besides me for ten years.” She has to rise up on her tiptoes just a little to kiss Afsaneh, who straightens. Pippa takes a dark curl between her fingers, and there’s that unapologetic abandon in her eyes again.

Afsaneh lets her hands slide down Pippa’s sides, slide under the waistband of her uniform pants before pulling off her shirt. When Pippa raises her arms, she doesn’t break eye contact, and it’s the most delicious combination of challenge and promise in her eyes. “I could never forget you.”

“Okay.” Pippa kisses Afsaneh again, then lifts her hair up off her neck and to the side. Attractive, arching her back. Afsaneh undoes her bra and kisses down the back of Pippa’s neck. It’s Pippa’s turn to lean into her and sigh, and Afsaneh holds her there for just a moment - and, because she can’t resist, she slips her hand down into Pippa’s pants. Pippa moans, and Afsaneh bites her lip. It’s just soaked fabric, but Pippa’s still leaning into her, so undone, so inviting. From this angle, Afsaneh can just see her mouth open in pleasure, her eyelashes dark and beautiful. “Then make this unforgettable.”

* * *

The plan at that point, ostensibly, is for the two of them to get into bed, but it doesn’t quite go to plan, because Afsaneh kneels, with every intention of getting Pippa out of her pants. Except that puts her mouth much too close to Pippa’s cunt for her to resist, and then she’s pressing her lips to the wet fabric of Pippa’s panties.

Pippa reaches for the wall behind her and holds on. “ _ Afsaneh _ ,” she moans.

Afsaneh doesn’t stop, just plays with the edges of the fabric with her fingers. Together, they settle Pippa’s leg over her shoulder. Even though her panties she’s writhing between Afsaneh’s hands, slick against her mouth, and Afsaneh looks up at her lover for just a moment - hair mussed, looking down at her.

“We could be nicer to your knees,” Pippa says, voice shaking a little.

Afsaneh breathes in, holds her gaze, and considers. She’ll take Pippa to bed, of course, but they both know that she could push her panties aside right now and make her scream so prettily, that way she hasn’t heard her in far too long.

Afsaneh kisses the inside of Pippa’s trembling thigh. “Okay.”

* * *

She intends to lay Pippa down on the bed and eat her out until she can’t remember her own name, but she ends up flat on her back on the bed while Pippa struggles with her pants.

It takes seemingly forever, and the whole thing is a little bit ridiculous, so they’re both laughing when Pippa settles back over her, kicking off her own panties. “You got prettier.” She’s tracing one of the stretch marks on Afsaneh’s breasts - she knows the one too without having to look down: the big one on the side. They’re easily enough removed now, but people don’t do it much anymore. That was something of the past, and Afsaneh doesn’t think much of the lines that mark her skin now, but it feels like a bit of a stretch to claim that she’s prettier now than she was - well, at any point before this.

“You look exactly the same.”

There’s a small thud as Pippa lets herself fall onto the bed beside Afsaneh. Their legs lock without them having to speak, the heat of almost-not-quite relief as Afsaneh rubs herself (finally) on Pippa’s thigh. “I don’t,” Pippa says, biting back her whine.

She takes Afsaneh’s hand and draws it down her side. Scars aren’t a thing anymore; if you can get to a medkit fast enough, it’s like nothing happened at all. But skilled fingers can pick up on when dermal regenerators weren’t nearly as efficient, leaving behind skin that felt just a little different than the skin around it. There are the ones on Pippa’s legs from her childhood accident - Afsaneh’s known about those for a long time - but there are new ones on her sides. Long, narrow. Unclean cuts. “Should I ask?”

Pippa interlocks their fingers and kisses her. “No,” she says against her mouth. “Bad time. Weird mission. We'll talk about it later.”

There’s so much bare skin for her to touch. It’s almost overwhelming. Afsaneh rolls Pippa over and kisses her greedily, over and over: her mouth, her jaw, her throat, those beautiful collarbones, her breasts, her belly. She licks at the scars and listens to Pippa’s sighs of satisfaction slip into whimpers as Afsaneh’s mouth drops lower - the hollow of her hip, the tops of her thighs.

“Why do you get to go first?” Pippa breathes, but it’s full of wonder and laughter. Afsaneh kisses the inside of her knee, and Pippa’s legs fall open. “Afsaneh,” she moans, and her hips rock against nothing.

Afsaneh kisses and licks up one thigh, then the other.

“ _ Afsaneh _ .”

Afsaneh’s circling Pippa’s inner thighs with her tongue, slowly. Her own arousal is making the room look bright and just a little bit glowy, and Pippa’s beautiful form glows in front of her. They’re surrounded by space, but she’s heavenly. “I thought you wanted to wait.”

She watches Pippa’s hand slip down her stomach, then freeze. She brings her hands to her hair instead, carding through the waves cascading across the bedspread. “You’re worth the wait. That’s why I’m waiting.” She jerks her hips again, but Afsaneh keeps her mouth where it is. “I don’t want to wait. I always want you.” Her mouth falls open when Afsaneh breathes over her cunt, warm, not touching. “Oh, I want you. I want you.”

“Tell me,” murmurs Afsaneh, and Pippa says it again. And again. And Afsaneh licks along her slit, long and slow. She’s dripping, she’s so wet.

Pippa yells.

Her legs snap up, bent, and Afsaneh catches them, holding them to her, holding Pippa to her mouth, as she works her tongue against her cunt - licking, sucking, kissing. She’s not fully successful in holding Pippa still, so she tries to move with the rolling of her hips. She’s all Afsaneh can hear and smell and taste, and it vaguely occurs to her that she should be breathing a little more air, but she also knows that she’d do this for however damn long Pippa wants, especially if she keeps sounding like this.

“More, more,  _ oh _ \--” Afsaneh feels Pippa’s hand on the back of her head, and she stills, flicking her tongue the way she just was, right above Pippa’s clit. Her Pippa loves being eaten out - something about the intimacy...and maybe a little about the attention as well. “ _ Afsaneh _ \--”

Afsaneh struggles to free her hand up enough and lifts herself up just a little on her thighs so that she can slip a finger inside.

“ _ Afsaneh _ _!_ ”

Pippa’s muscles clench under Afsaneh’s hands as she comes with a cry, tangling her hands in Afsaneh’s hair.

As her shudders slow, Afsaneh pulls her mouth away gently and kisses Pippa’s stomach. Pippa giggles, eyes closed, still sounding a little breathless. “Come here.” Afsaneh obeys, and Pippa kisses her, lush and full, pulling her to her chest. “I’m going to be hoarse on the bridge tonight.”

She doesn’t sound hoarse. Not yet, anyway. Afsaneh pushes Pippa’s hair away from her face. “Can I be selfish and say that I love the way you sound?”

Pippa beams. “Sure, but I don’t think it’s so selfish.”

“Tell that to your captain.”

“She’s not here, and there is nothing selfish about you and I spending time together.”

It strikes Afsaneh that she’s right and also how, still, none of this feels real. They’re just two lovers spending an afternoon together. Two specks in the universe. It makes everything between them sharpen into focus. Afsaneh wants to say something, but--

“Afsaneh?”

She blinks. Pippa’s satiated now, so the edge is gone from her eyes, but she looks no less earnest. “Hm?”

She presses her fingers to Afsaneh’s mouth to kiss, and Afsaneh absentmindedly takes them into her mouth. “Would you very much mind opening your legs so I can retaliate on this so-called ‘selfishness’?”

Afsaneh shifts and brings her hand to Pippa’s cheek. “Can you do it while we’re kissing?”

She’s dreamed of this more often than she likes to admit, in a wandering thought or in a dream. It’s been more frequent last year, as she tried to mend a family that she helped break. It’s working, she thinks, but it also means spending a lot of time alone. Pippa is a particular kind of homecoming. She’s been craving it, craving her. Even now, she realizes she didn’t know how badly.

Pippa’s fingers settle expertly over her clit, and they rock slowly together, Afsaneh’s leg slung over Pippa’s hip, mouths careful and deliberate.

When Afsaneh has to break away because the feeling’s built too much, Pippa keeps going, pressing her forehead to hers, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids. “I love you,” she tells her, moving to her jaw, her chin.

“Pippa,” whispers Afsaneh. It’s not the first time Pippa’s told her this, and it’s not even like she ever really stopped telling it to her, but it’s meant different things over the years, and this time means something completely different. She’s never heard this kind of  _ I love you _ before.

Pippa slides three fingers into her, and Afsaneh gasps. “I miss touching you like this.”

“ _ Pippa _ .”

“I won’t stop, I promise.”

Afsaneh bites her lip, and Pippa kisses it. Afsaneh shifts, wrapping her arms around her, rocking just a little more so that Pippa’s fingers can hit right -  _ there _ .

She comes with a yelp, pressing Pippa’s hand into her, eyes closed.

Her leg’s feeling a bit stiff, and Pippa moves away from her quicker than she would have expected. They settle into a more comfortable position, Afsaneh curling so her head rests on those beautiful collarbones.

Pippa probably has to get dressed and go on duty soon, but that’s not now, and they have more than two more days of this. She doesn’t know what happens about that. They never do, when they see each other. But something about this feels more permanent. Maybe it’s wishful thinking on her part (she’s going to think about this again later when she’s not buzzing from post-orgasmic bliss), but something’s shifted. Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s something else.

Part of her wants to curl up and sleep like this, wake up in the morning naked and clinging to this woman so she has to remember that this has happened all over again. But she’ll sleep later. “I love you too,” she says instead. “I would have said it, but--”

“You were preoccupied?” Pippa props herself up on an elbow, and Afsaneh watches her take stock of the room - clothes strewn everywhere. The time’s displayed in at least one other place in this room, and she’s probably checking that too. “It’s alright.” And then, a bit apologetic: “I do have to go, though. I’ll see you tonight?”

Pippa doesn’t have to wait for Afsaneh’s response to get out of bed - she just kisses her and starts picking up clothes off the floor. Starfleet is Starfleet. It will always be there. It will always come first. That’s what they want.

Afsaneh leans back into bed, and if she stretches in a way that draws Pippa’s eye back to her body, then so be it. “Like I would be anywhere else.”

When Pippa does come back at the end of her shift, Afsaneh wakes up just a little from her dream. It’s not enough to register exactly what’s happening, but in the morning, she remembers that there was something about them and the nebula - million-colored cloud becoming a star before their very eyes.


End file.
